Chapitre 45: CH45 - Something Wicked This Way Comes
As he stepped on the fallen branches decorating the floor of the Forbidden Forest, Edmund noted the increasing signs of warmth permeating the land.
His classes were progressing normally at school, but the teachers had become more relaxed following the winter holidays. The reprieve would only be a temporary one for the students of Hogwarts. After Easter break, exam season would be just around the corner, and the pressure would mount exponentially.
But for now, Edmund had some time to do as he pleased, a period he dedicated to traversing the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
He had no reason to continue exploring the area, in truth. But it was oh so exhilarating for him. Training in the Room of Requirement paled in front of even the most minor confrontation within the woods. How could practicing his movement and accuracy at the range compare to vanquishing an acromantula as he ducked behind trees and aimed between branches to strike his target?
Preparation was nothing if there was no experience to guide it.
However, Edmund would have to admit that his jaunts into the woods had become lacklustre in recent times. The frigid atmosphere seemed to have frightened even the fiercest of beasts, making them disinclined to leave their warm dens.
But now the season of snow was ending.
The temperature had gradually risen in the past few weeks, making the Scottish chill slightly more bearable. No one would be caught outside without several layers of clothing, but the use of heating charms had become less of a constant necessity than during the prime months of winter.
Even at six o'clock in the evening, sunlight could be seen peeking through the leaves of the trees, a stark contrast to the ever-present darkness of the past.
Frost, which used to cover each blade of grass, had given way to morning dew, keeping the ground slick throughout the day.
It was perhaps because of these observations that Edmund was startled to suddenly feel the air around him becoming ice-cold, penetrating him to the very core. Slowly, stray morbid thoughts began to impede his mind, giving Edmund a clue that the issue was beyond just a powerful gust of wind.
But it was truly his wampus-enhanced brain that alerted him to the abnormalities occurring around him. A squirrel, calmly scampering down a tree, bolted back up the trunk into its nest. A group of mice nibbling on a bushel of berries dashed away as fast as they could, leaving behind their bounty of scavenged food. Numerous earthworms that had surfaced to enjoy the wet soil burrowed back into the depths in a frenzy.
An odd presence, the likes of which Edmund had never felt before, made itself known to him. It was dark and malevolent, its emotions strong and yet so primal.
Hunger.
It was eternal greed and misery personified, underlined by an endless pool of gluttony.
Edmund's danger sense had similarly begun going haywire, diverging from its usual distinctive behaviour. The signal it gave was not its typical short warning but a singular prolonged note. It grew from inaudible to thunderously loud, from soft to incredibly sharp.
Something sinister was approaching.
Dementors.
Edmund clutched his cloak tighter around him in anticipation, despite knowing that the action would do nothing. Dementors were widely known to be blind, without any eyes to speak of. Their sensory capabilities extended only as far as the detection of emotions, but in truth, it was all they needed to find a source for their nourishment.
He watched as a cloaked figure separated from its pack circling in the sky, descending steadily toward Edmund's direction. Its movements were mirrored by several others from its group, gliding behind it with intrigue.
The foul wraiths would be in for a surprise.
Edmund was no longer the helpless target he had been during his last encounter with them. He was stronger in every single aspect. His magic had been refined and honed over innumerable hours of practice. His mind was a nigh-impregnable fortress, painstakingly reconstructed after each gruelling session with Elspeth. He had even tested himself against the effects of the dementor with a boggart hundreds of times until he had conquered his weakness in every respect.
Taking the growing dread forming within him, Edmund bottled it up and discarded it. His fear might usually be an essential mechanism to keep him safe. But on this day, it was nothing more than a hindrance. One he could not afford. It would have to go.
The activation of his occlumency left him blank, but not for long.
With a deep sigh, Edmund called forth the familiar memories that made his entire being swell up, a well-rehearsed act by this point.
"Expecto Patronum," he said confidently.
The jaguar patronus burst out of his wand, blindingly bright in its magnificence. The animal took on a massive size, large enough to wrap around Edmund. Its form did not flicker once as it looked back and forth, prowling around the one it was meant to protect.
The dementor was a mere twenty feet from Edmund when it abruptly stopped, going entirely still once more. It rasped breathily, the first sign of life it had ever demonstrated. Freakishly steady, it tilted its head to the side, considering what to do in an eerily human manner.
Edmund's jaguar guardian was raring to leap toward the one who dared to threaten its master. And yet, it hesitated to move from its spot. For descending on all sides of Edmund were six other dementors, forming an inescapable ring around him.
They hovered motionlessly, silent except for the wind that rattled unnaturally through their ribcages.
Instead of feeling apprehensive, Edmund only grinned darkly.
'Oh? You want to play it that way?' he thought with a hair-raising smile adorning his features.
The magic feeding his patronus lessened visibly, the opacity of the beast diminishing. Wordlessly, the dementors moved inwards, the barrier keeping them away reducing in its radius the weaker the patronus became. This close to Edmund, their falsely calm demeanour dissipated as they clawed desperately at the last bit of space separating them from their prey.
Edmund ignored their chilling behaviour, his eyes closed with concentration. When they shot open next, his wand trembled in his grasp as an endless stream of white flowed out of it. Smaller jaguars, the size of cats, majestically leapt out of the wooden stick, loping through the air as easily as if it were the ground. They shimmered and sparkled brightly, illuminating all but the blackness of the dementor's cloaks that seemed to suck in all the light around it.
They stalked the dementors with a growl, the predators turning into their prey. Hissing and snarling, the entourage encircled the dementors soundlessly.
Edmund was no longer stuck with the dementors. They were stuck with him.
Bolstering his defences with the last of his magical reserves, the massive jaguar protecting Edmund swelled up even further, its tail now almost as tall as him. It curled around him lazily, its head on a swivel as it looked at the dementors daringly.
Would the wraiths back up into the band of patronuses guarding them or take their chances with the sole protector in front?
The answer was the latter.
They swooped inwards all at once, crying out in pain as they made contact with the only energy capable of causing them harm. Their shrill screeches filled the air, but they soldiered on undeterred.
Their 'bravery' was not rewarded.
Edmund's jaguar protector—
'Pax,' Edmund decided in the heat of the battle.
—used every part of its body like the efficient killing machine it was designed to be.
Its front claws scratched at two dementors simultaneously, burning their 'skin,' judging by the distressed howls they emitted. Its hind legs focused on a singular dementor, kicking it with all its might, sending it flying into the outer ring of patronuses waiting for it. Even its tail whipped another dementor, effectively halting its advance.
But it was Pax's teeth that dealt the most damage of them all as they sunk into the flesh of one of the dementors, yielding a deafening roar. A chunk of rotting, darkened meat was spat from the jaguar's mouth as it flicked its tongue repeatedly to rid itself of the repulsive taste.
'Not just corporeal, but tangible too!...' Edmund thought with awe as he admired his work.
The wound site on the dementor was as black as Edmund had expected, but thin white lines were spreading from it, travelling up its body like an infection. From the point of the bite downwards, the dementor's cloak had also been torn off, drifting to the ground. There, its aura of death began to spread to the plants, killing them quickly.
The dementor did not stick around, shooting back upwards through the layer of patronuses, uncaring for the damage it took along the way. For the first time, it felt unsure about its continued existence. For the first time, it experienced the emotion it relished to create in others: Fear.
Pax threw its head back in victory before leaping back into battle. The minor win seemed to have stoked the fire within it even further as the ferocity of its attacks grew.
Holes spread throughout the rags covering the dementors, exposing more of the horrifying sight that lay underneath. Glistening, greyish, scabbed limbs attached to a heavily disfigured central frame began to be seen. Their skin was akin to something dead that had been left to decay in the water for decades, only to be perfectly preserved afterwards.
The picture may have disgusted others, but to Edmund, it was just another sign of his dominance over his enemies; an image that made his bloodlust surge.
It was apparent that the dementors were unused to resistance and even more so to actual battle. Their strategy consisted solely of dodging and futilely waiting for the opportunity where an exploitable gap would arise.
Unfortunately, it was not something that Edmund was willing to provide.
The creatures also seemed to realize this as they reluctantly endeavoured to drift away from the scene. Of course, Edmund attempted to block the path of their retreat, dealing more damage every step of the way. Nonetheless, the dementors were elusive and manage to escape his grasp with scarcely a bit of struggle.
Only when the last of the foul beings left his presence did Edmund relax.
Falling onto the floor of the Forbidden Forest, he chuckled with glee, laughing uncontrollably. He rolled around in triumph and exhaustiveness as the patronuses began to be swallowed back into his wand. Pax looked at him one final time and nodded before it too, disappeared, leaving behind only a faint feeling of happiness.
Underneath his back, Edmund felt something cold impact him, making him jump up in shock. Below him remained a large cut of the dementor's cloak, dark as night. It lay there innocuously enough, but Edmund knew better. Centuries of contact with the dementor had saturated it with some form of power, and Edmund would find out what.
If this were his plunder for the day, he would make the most of it.
As he eradicated the last remnants of the battle, Edmund turned his gaze to Hogwarts. Only when he emerged by Hagrid's Hut and joined the half-giant on his way to the evening feast did he relax.
In hindsight, he had been careless but had thankfully gotten away with it without consequence. Dementors may be a problem he was qualified to deal with, but the situation would be entirely different if Albus Dumbledore had noticed the commotion.
Looking upwards, Edmund could see the aforementioned headmaster standing on the astronomy tower, his phoenix perched on his shoulder. The man's eyes were scanning the sky, no doubt looking at the section missing its usual guard of dementors.
He would get no details about why that was from him, that was for sure.
Edmund smirked internally. 'Not today, old man.'
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone